Snowy Drawings of Happiness
by Aliada
Summary: He really meant something. And not just something. More than anything. Now, hearing Fili mutter that once again… he didn't think there was a breath left in his body. And he could no longer pretend he wasn't crying. But this time, it was cleansing. And wonderful. (written for GatheringFiKi's 12 Days of Christmas (2019) event)


_**A/N**__: Modern AU. Fili and Kili on a skiing holiday, or rather Fili trying to drag an insecure Kili away from work. _

Christmas was soon approaching, but it didn't feel like it, not in the slightest. Kili was working day and night, and Fili found himself getting concerned. Generally, getting concerned wasn't something he did lightly, not even with the most random of Kili's actions. In fact, there was nothing random about Kili if you knew him well. And Fili did. Sometimes, Kili was quite proficient at shaking his calm confidence in that fact, but their arguments were either non-existent or extremely short-lived. The second kind frequently included shouting matches, but there was comfort even in that.

Now, however, his mind refused to be put at ease, and it wasn't a good sign. Fili rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked at Kili who was hunched miserably over his laptop. Definitely not a good sign.

It was Friday night, so Fili was thinking about getting a takeout and probably watching a movie as they used to do before 'the thing' started. He supposed he could come up with a more eloquent (not to mention elegant) name, but he didn't really want to go into specifics until he could at least discover the gist of it. And to do that, he had to be patient.

It was also ten days before Christmas, which meant that they had to start planning or at least decorate the Christmas tree to get in the mood. But he didn't think there was any sense in mentioning it to Kili until the situation, whatever it was, got resolved. At least, there still was time.

In general, there were too many 'at leasts' which were actively grating on his nerves.

Fili came into the room, deliberately moving louder than usual.

Kili didn't even turn his head. Apparently, his presence wasn't going to be acknowledged.

The sound of typing was almost angry, and, judging by Kili's expression, he wasn't very far from that particular feeling, either.

Fili paused and looked over the mess of papers on the table. Some were crumbled into a hopeless heap, some had a few thick layers of black and red lines with no evident pattern behind them. Some were literally ripped through by a highlighter.

Kili's phone was hanging halfway off the table, and the frequency of blinking on the screen was also far from consoling.

Fili suppressed a sigh and touched Kili's shoulder lightly, getting no immediate reaction but a slight shake of the head.

"You will end up with no phone if you go on like that," he said, keeping his tone light.

Still glued to the screen, Kili moved his hand and adjusted the phone without looking, or rather tried to adjust it. His hand slipped and he nearly knocked the thing off, only stopping himself at the last moment and releasing a shaky, tense sigh. So now, the phone was lying face down and Kili's fingers kept twitching over it. Fili was only too aware of what that package of emotions entailed. And irritation wasn't by far the worst thing on the list.

There were a hundred questions he could ask, all of them ghosting at the tip of his tongue, but only one or two of were likely to produce relatively successful results. Or so he hoped.

"Don't want to tell me what's going on?"

Probably that wasn't the best choice, after all, but Fili was willing to give things a try.

He had two Winter Park tickets and he would not let those go to waste even if he had to drag Kili out of the flat by force. Which, judging by Kili's stubborn expression, seemed like a real possibility.

"No," came the predictable response, and Fili suppressed an internal sigh. Even those could put him on a shaky ground with this version of Kili.

"No! Because there is nothing to tell. Everything is fine."

Apparently, they were entering the second stage, and Fili couldn't help but feel cautiously glad at that. At least, some progress was in sight.

Clearly no longer able to bear the sight of his laptop, Kili closed it, none too gently, and ran his hand over his face, stopping at the hairline and fisting his hair with a desperation that didn't sit well with Fili.

The squeezing and pulling went on for a few more seconds until Fili lost his patience and touched Kili's fingers with his, only succeeding in eliciting an even more demonstrative pull.

"Stop that."

At that, Kili finally reacted, shooting up from the chair, his expression nothing short of fuming.

"Well, at least the hair is left in peace," Fili thought with little humor.

"Stop _what_? Working? Living my life?" Kili's voice rose, but subdued closer to the end, as if he wasn't sure what he was doing.

Fili wasn't sure, either. The last one hurt, he had to admit, but it wasn't about his feelings at the moment.

Kili lowered his eyes and looked away, busying himself with rearranging the papers. Fili doubted there was any concrete purpose behind it.

"You know the answer to this question," he said, keeping his voice calm.

Kili had to take this step alone.

"And we are not leaving this room until we both have it," he added, feeling an unexpected burn in his chest that had nothing to do with the fact that he'd just turned on the heater after Kili's partially successful attempt of turning their flat into a freezer.

Kili abandoned the papers in a flash and looked at him incredulously. It didn't take long for his brother to switch from compliance to stubbornness. But, whatever the cost, Fili was adamant. They would solve this today.

_Earlier this day_

_Fili's POV_

Fili woke up from the feeling of being slowly wrapped up into an icy blanket. He shot up from the bed, shivered and blinked a few times, trying, rather unsuccessfully, to come to terms with the sight in front of him. A half of his blanket was sprinkled with snow, whereas another half was tangled up in a hopeless heap. Apparently, his body was struggling to get some warmth and clearly failing.

Fili didn't want to turn around and see what he would most certainly see, but his sense of self-preservation left him with little choice.

The window was wide open, inviting the whirl of dancing snowflakes in.

Fili swore under his breath (his only regret being he couldn't swear loudly and risk inhaling more cold air), but his irritation was somewhat tampered by yet another unexpected sight.

The table was cleared. Instead of the usual heap of empty bottles and cans, mixed chaotically with work things, there were roses. Real red roses with huge petals, as if painted on the otherwise boring surface of the wall. The traces of snow around the vase also looked nothing short of surreal.

Fili's mind stopped spinning, enthralled by the sight, but the reality was rather insistent in reminding him that his fate won't be that different from the fate of an icicle if he doesn't do something. And fast.

At that, Fili groaned and fell on the pillow, desperately trying to catch a few more moments of relaxed unawareness under his snowy blanket. Anyway, he should just let Kili deal with this mess as he was the one who started it.

After calling him two times in a row and getting no response, Fili was almost ready to give up.

At the third, increasingly angry shout, Kili finally appeared, or rather flew in with a suspiciously excited expression.

"You are awake!"

Fili pointed at the window meaningfully.

"It's kind of hard not to be."

This time, it was Kili's turn to swear and finally, blissfully, close the window. Fili breathed a sigh of relief, fighting with the grim realization that he wasn't going to get any more sleep today.

"It seems I overdid it a bit, sorry," Kili murmured, the mildly exciting expression still in place.

Fili threw a pillow at him, partially because he deserved it, and partially because it was a good way to push the remnants of sleep from his own head.

For the rest of the day, Fili was trying to warm up their flat, because Kili, in his sudden attack of creativity, managed to open all the windows in their possession, even those Fili had no idea existed,

Having restored the resemblance of appropriate temperature, Fili found Kili staring blankly at his phone and muttering something identifiable. Apparently, his happy mood was gone.

"Budge up a bit," Fili said.

Kili did, letting out a barely audible annoyed sigh that turned into a clearly involuntary chuckle when his eyes caught a rose in Fili's hand.

"Should I be concerned, little brother?" Fili asked, playfully.

This time, Kili's chuckle was far more heartwarming.

"Oh, shut up you! It's just… nothing, it's nothing. I simply–"

Unable, or unwilling, to continue, Kili shook his head.

Fili pointed at the phone in his hand, keeping his expression light.

"Is that the reason?"

Kili threw him a falsely amused look.

"A phone? No, I'm sure concerned about the negative impact of technology on humans, but not to this extent…"

Fili refused to waver or be involved into a game he had no chance of winning. At his barely nineteen, Kili was ridiculously good at maneuvering his way through a conversation, instantly filtering topics, evaluating responses and avoiding things he didn't want to talk about. Moreover, he made it look effortless. That is, until his temper resurfaced and interfered with his thinking ability.

"I'm serious, Kili."

Kili hid his face in his hands, the gesture tugging slightly at Fili's heart.

"Come on, Kili. Talk to me," he whispered, covering his brother's hand with his and squeezing gently.

Kili didn't pull away.

"It's just…" he felt silent again and took a long breath in an attempt to compose himself, "It's _suffocating_ me, Fili. This job, this responsibility. This… everything. I need something new, something different."

Fili put his other arm around Kili's shoulders, feeling him tremble slightly.

"I don't think I'm managing. Well, I do, I guess, but it doesn't seem enough. Nothing does lately," he finished, his voice reducing to a whisper, as if pronouncing these words hurt something inside of him.

And it did. Fili knew it did.

With the last shake of the head, Kili opened his face, revealing a painfully-looking smile.

The prickling in Fili's chest was just as painful.

"Listen to me, Kili. It's going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine," he said, realizing helplessly how inadequate, hollow the words sounded.

And evidently, so did Kili, judging by his lowered eyes and stiff posture.

His grip on Kili's shoulders began to falter. When Kili lifted his eyes, his expression was changed.

"It's really nothing, Fili. No big deal. Just me making a drama out of nothing. Happens sometimes, you know?"

The chuckle that followed was one of the least convincing things Fili has ever heard. He looked at Kili, not sure what to say. With the last small nod, Kili left the room.

_Kili's POV_

It was a complete and utter disaster, even more so that Fili suddenly went into the "protective brother" mode and couldn't seem to leave him alone.

Not that Kili liked being alone. In fact, he hated it most of the time, but now he was overwhelmed by stuff as it was, and the last thing he needed was Fili's interference.

Yes, he probably didn't look very good during the last few weeks, but what's the big deal? He was hardly the only one to feel stressed out by his job.

He'd suffered through one interrogation earlier in the day, and now he was facing more of the same. Very nice. Fine, he could endure that as well, he supposed, but the next thing to come out of Fili's mouth left him frozen on the spot.

_Forbidding_ him to leave the room? Was he even serious?

Kili felt his anger rise to his throat.

"I have no idea what answer you expect. I've already told you all I could. The work is demanding, I'm a little stressed out, end of story."

It sounded perfectly reasonable to his ears, but Fili seemed to disagree, as he still wasn't let out. It was getting ridiculous.

Yes, he might have overdone it a little with cleaning the damn table and putting the flowers. Well, with the windows too, probably, but he just felt this urge to do something new and unusual. Something that would let him _breathe_ again. Something that would break the routine of endless assignments and revisions, coupled with the increasingly irritating "you can do better" comments.

In fact, Fili should be appreciative of his efforts. Well, the window-opening effort was clearly lost on him, and for a good reason, but the flowers were nice. Kili liked the flowers, how refreshing and _alive _they looked.

Suddenly, Kili remembered Fili's fond smile and his anger disappeared. No, Fili liked the flowers as well, he could tell. So, what was the problem?

"Christmas is in ten days, and we still haven't–" Fili began tiredly, and Kili felt a wave of sympathy overcome him.

"Have we not?" he asked, not able to keep the smile from his face.

Fili's eyes widened and he grinned. Kili felt a rush of satisfaction.

"When did you–"

Kili didn't like that question. It was a tricky one. If he told Fili that he did it early in the morning, he'd guess that he barely slept at night, if he lied, Fili would probably notice it anyway. He always did.

"It does not matter."

Surprisingly, Fili didn't argue with him. Instead, he took a few steps closer and wrapped Kili in a hug.

Kili felt the last bits of his resistance crumble. Suddenly, he wanted to cry.

"I know you didn't sleep at night. Or rather, at nights. It's not the first one, is it?" Fili whispered in his ear.

Kili nodded wordlessly.

"I'm sorry," his brother said in response.

At that, Kili felt a mix of emotions, and he couldn't identify a single one of them.

"I'm sorry for not noticing earlier."

The hug tightened, and Kili realized that confusion was the least of his problems. The burning behind his eyelids was becoming increasingly insistent and he knew that if he gave in, all other emotions would come crushing to the fore. So he pressed his forehead to Fili's shoulder and tried to breathe.

"It wasn't about being stressed out, was it? You handle everyday stress very well, far better than many people I know. Sometimes even better than me."

Kili released a shaky chuckle and shook his head 'no'.

"What do you mean 'no'? Not satisfied with 'sometimes'?"

Kili knew that Fili understood what he meant, and still he was grateful for the drama that kept his tears at bay. He knew it wasn't the end of it, though. Of course, Fili would know the rest. Fili knew everything.

"It wasn't about trying something different, either. It's not your real job yet. You don't have to decide right now. You don't have to succumb to the routine. And it's not something you need me to tell you, either."

Kili shook his head and tried to break free. He could bear no more of that.

Fili let him. He let him, and somehow, that only worked to intensify the burn.

"You want to know the real reason?" Kili cried out, not recognizing his own voice.

"Because you are better than me. And don't try to turn that into a joke, because it's not. It's the truth. I'm clearly worse at everything. And I will always be… And you can never–"

He was out of breath before he could finish. There was no more burn anymore. Kili closed his eyes trying to prevent the tears from spilling. A useless effort, made even more useless by Fili's comforting arms around his shoulders.

"Be proud of you? Is that what you think? That I can never be proud of you?"

Kili didn't think that he could say anything, so he just nodded miserably in Fili's shoulder.

His brother let out a tense explosion of breath. When he spoke, though, his voice was firm.

"Listen to me."

At that, his chin was lifted gently, but the one-armed hug still remained.

"Do you remember the time when we went skiing three years ago?"

Kili shook his head 'yes'. That winter was magical. There was so much snow that one could easily drown in it. And Kili, never one to miss an opportunity, did exactly that.

"It was fun," he blurted out before he could think better of it.

Fili squinted at him.

"Yes, mostly. Until someone went where he wasn't supposed to be and got lost."

Kili felt his cheeks color. It was three years ago. Shouldn't they forget about that unfortunate incident by now?

"Do you remember what I said to you then?"

Kili thought on that. He wasn't sure about the specifics, but it was certainly nothing pleasant.

"Before all the shouting of after?"

Now, Fili couldn't suppress a grin. It looked even funnier with an admonishing glare he was still wearing.

"Yes, it included plenty of shouting, none of which wasn't deserved, but it's not the point. You know what I mean."

Kili did. With a put-upon sight, he started to remember in earnest. Fili was terrified, scared out of his mind. Then, he was relieved, but it none of that came until he endured an hour-long wait during which Kili was dragged out of the massive pile of snow and then poked and prodded with no end in sight. At some point, they said he wasn't breathing. Kili had trouble realizing what must have gone through Fili's head when he was told that. Of course, he deserved all the shouting. What he didn't deserve was Fili's broken "you mean to me more than anything" that followed the shouting. Kili felt awful about that, to the point that he agreed to take on a week-long cleaning duty. Not that Fili was offering him a choice, but Kili still liked to think that he could've refused if he'd wanted.

These words, though… They were stuck forever in Kili's mind. And still, Fili never tired of reminding him. He really meant something. And not just something. _More than anything_.

Now, hearing Fili mutter that once again… he didn't think there was a breath left in his body. And he could no longer pretend he wasn't crying. But this time, it was cleansing. And wonderful.

"I don't need roses, clean tables, or stupid internships to be proud of you. And you'd better remember that, or we will be having entirely different words next time."

Kili let out a watery chuckle, but still couldn't help but protest, "It's not stupid."

His brother grinned at him with what Kili liked to call a 'promising grin'.

"What?" he asked, wiping the remnants of tears from his eyes.

"If it's not stupid, it's going to let you go in three days, so we can begin our holiday," Fili answered, almost proudly.

"Our holiday?" he echoed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"That is, unless you prefer to go on your own holiday? Or do you own shopping? Or…"

"No! I didn't enjoy any of that 'alone' thing. I hated it!"

Now, Fili's all-knowing smile turned into a smug one.

"That's my little brother! I've chosen the same skiing location for us, if you don't mind?"

"To remind me of my youthful mistakes? Thanks a lot."

"_Youthful _mistakes? You are not eighty."

"I'm almost twenty,"

"You've only turned nineteen last month. Don't make me question your math skills."

Kili huffed at that, but said nothing. Sometimes, he didn't mind being a 'little brother'. Not that he would ever admit that to Fili, of course.

That night, they went out. Kili enjoyed it a lot. There was nice food and drink. But most of all, it was nice to be able to breathe again. And dance under the falling snowflakes, while having Fili imitate him and fail miserably. Also, teasing Fili afterwards. Nothing could quite beat that bit.

_Fili's POV_

Fili was watching Kili switch his goggles on and off every five seconds. It should've probably been irritating, but he didn't think he could ever be truly irritated by Kili's smiles. And he was smiling quite a lot today. Even for Kili. Fili's own face was aching from the effort to keep up.

Usually, they hated early wake-up calls, but today the excitement and the anticipation seemed to win over physical exhaustion. So, after two cups of coffee each, they felt perfectly battle-ready. Or more like stoned out of their minds, but Kili preferred the first description, and Fili found himself agreeing.

During the lift, Kili got a little dizzy, which gave Fili a perfect opportunity to make up for his teasing a few days earlier. He would lie if he said that he didn't enjoy that. Thankfully, dizziness ended up being just what it was. Still, Fili made sure that his brother kept hydrated, despite his loud protests.

Now, sunshine was blinding them, and Fili's morning headache was beginning to return. Possibly staying up nearly all night wasn't such a bright idea, after all. Somehow, Kili seemed to avoid these particular consequences. Fili felt rather old at the thought.

"So, is your athletic stance ready?" Kili asked him, grinning.

Fili groaned. _That_ joke. He wasn't sure how one could feel simultaneously nostalgic and resentful, but that was pretty close to what he was experiencing at the moment. When they first started skiing, Fili was amazed at Kili's ability to keep himself balanced. For Fili, it included a lot of rigorous training and subsequent frustration. Kili's built-in athletic stance didn't exactly become their apple of discord, but they liked to pretend it was. Sometimes, they even got others to believe that. And that was when real matches began. Every time, they made sure that they got an equal number of points at the end, which only served to fuel confusion.

The best thing about that was hearing Kili chuckle afterwards. His brother was awfully non-competitive when coupled with him. For all that talk about insecurities and being better, Kili had ever only wanted to be good enough, thinking, for some reason, that Fili's affection depended on that. Otherwise, he was content to stay in the shadows, forever loyal and supportive. The thought squeezed something in Fili's chest.

Sometimes, that worried him. But then he would look at Kili interact with people in the outside world and his fears would go away. Clever, competent, driven. Fixed in his opinions, when needed. Fili liked what he saw, and that calmed like nothing else. His Kili was alright. _Will_ be alright.

The steady failing of snow was growing increasingly intense. For some reason, it was particularly attracted by Kili's hair, which was quickly becoming damp all over. So, instead of responding to his brother's ridiculous question about athletic stance, Fili busied himself with saving those dry areas that were still left. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in throwing some snow behind Kili's collar and evoking an indignant yelp.

"Isn't that what you like? Snow getting everywhere?'

Kili punched him lightly on the shoulder. Fili grinned.

"It wasn't just snow 'getting everywhere'. It was… an artistic effort," Kili protested.

"Yes, followed by my non-artistic effort to stop us from catching pneumonia,"

"I wouldn't have caught pneumonia! Can't say the same about you, though. You've always been a little bit…"

The last word of that sentence was never meant to be uttered, as it was replaced by a surprised yelp and the sound of two bodies hitting the ground in a quick succession. All that was followed by an explosion of laughter and the sound of a scuffle, which meant that even if there were some coherent sounds produced, they wouldn't be heard anyway.

But this was alright. What was heard and seen was eloquent enough.

Happiness was always eloquent.


End file.
